


Take My Hand

by AlaskanBby



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, It’s very feelings heavy, M/M, Post-Mageddon, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, all admitted in the bookshop!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:02:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22918159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaskanBby/pseuds/AlaskanBby
Summary: Now that it’s not the end of the world as they know it, and they didn’t die in either holy water or hellfire, Crowley decides that they need to talk about what their future holds.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	Take My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Take my hand, feel it tremble. Would it tremble for a friend? - The musical Robert & Elizabeth
> 
> And as always I’d like to thank fellow author aanahitt for reading through all this fic.

His hand still tingled. Sure they had almost died, that went without saying, the whole world had almost died. But this was a different tingle than one driven by fear and adrenaline. It was comparable to the tingle he felt whenever he was near Aziraphale, being too close and yet their touch still forbidden. His face still flushed when he remembered pushing Aziraphale to the wall, all because the angel had wanted to call him “nice”. For days afterward, though, he had tingled and buzzed all over.

Aziraphale had wanted to hold his hand and feel assured by his presence. Crowley looked at his hand and felt warmth bloom through his chest. His hand was buzzing, he closed his fingers and held the loose fist to his heart, or where his heart should have been. 

That had been days ago, Armageddon hadn’t happened, Aziraphale seemed more relaxed with him finally. Thus he allowed himself to indulge in the sensation he recieved from touching the angel. He even allowed himself to entertain the possibility that they’d hold hands again. Maybe even soon.

***

Crowley hesitated at the door to the bookshop. It made him feel so dumb, after all, it was a glass door, anyone could see him just standing outside like an insane person. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous; he knew Aziraphale wouldn’t think anything of him coming to his shop the same way that he had for years now. Crowley even knew it would all be very normal: drinking, laughing, and general chit chat. Nothing of import as the end of the world was now over.

He was jolted from his thoughts when the door to the shop opened and nearly smacked him in the face. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale looked around, back and forth down the street in case either of them were being watched. Crowley knew though that Heaven and Hell couldn’t care less what they were doing and were perhaps more afraid of what they were doing than anything. “Come inside, don’t just stand there. You’ll catch cold at any rate.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, taking his sunglasses off as he stepped inside the dimly lit and perpetually safe bookshop. “Can’t catch cold, we’re not susceptible to human illnesses, you know that.”

“Term of phrase,” Aziraphale explained away. Crowley watched him turn the shop sign to ‘Closed’ and draw the blinds. He felt warmth surround him, making him feel safe. 

“You don’t have to close shop,” Crowley sat down languidly in one of the worn armchairs inside the shop. The dim lighting felt very intimate. He watched the shadows cast over Aziraphale’s face and he noticed how truly piercing those blue eyes were. It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed before. Just that he’d never allowed himself to dwell on it. 

“I’m not exactly trying to sell anything.” Aziraphale smiled warmly. He was dressed more casually than Crowley was used to seeing him. Still formal in slacks and a nice blue sweater. But much less three piece suit-y than was the natural cloth of an angel.

Crowley smiled slightly, nothing too obvious. He rather knew that the angel was closing shop just because he was there. 

“Drink?” Aziraphale offered. He was standing by a small antique drink cart. There were crystal decanters with liquids of varying colors and a tray with crystal glasses on it.

“Sure, I’ll take a scotch, if you have any,” The demon sat up a little more upright, watching Aziraphale as he poured the amber drink into two glasses, bringing them over. He handed one to Crowley and took a seat in an adjacent armchair. They were upholstered in velvet and were rather comfortable albeit worn. The warm rich burgundy matched the dark wood of the bookshop and the fabric and leather bound books surrounding them. 

They sat in silence for a while, Crowley sipping from his drink, trying to calm the nerves he could feel festering in his stomach. Butterflies? Wasn’t that what the humans said? The burn was enough to distract him. And if the scotch wasn’t of such good quality Crowley knew he would be chugging it in no time. He didn’t know what he wanted to say to Aziraphale. Or even how to say it. Least of all how to say it. 

“Have your people been in touch?” Aziraphale looked over at him and Crowley blushed for no good reason. 

“No, yours?” He sipped his drink. He wanted to appear casual, cool, and collected. Like himself. 

“Nah, I don’t think Gabriel wants to even think about my existence at the moment. I think it’s better that way.” He looked back down at his own glass and swirled the liquid in it his eyes following the whirlpool that was created. 

“Ah, yeah, probably,” Crowley’s nose wrinkled. “Surviving hellfire’ll do that.”

Aziraphale laughed. It was soft and ethereal and just perfect. The laugh fit him in every way and Crowley wanted nothing more than to make him laugh like that forever.

“Given any thought to what you want to do now, Principality?” Crowley looked down at his own drink. He couldn’t watch the angel with the not knowing. “Since the end of the world has passed for now?”

“Just lay low, sell books, eat food, spend time with friends,” Crowley felt the angel’s burning gaze, or at least he thought it was a burning gaze, he was too afraid to look. “What about you?” The angel’s voice was hauntingly low. He felt his breath catch and he licked his lips.

“Oh you know,” he stated casually, “The usual. A temptation here, a minor demonic miracle there. Wreaking havoc, raising a bit of Cain,” he couldn’t help his chuckle at that last one. 

“You’re not going to stick around?” There was a temple in the again lilting voice, one that gripped Crowley’s heart and made it seize.

“I am, I can do those things here. I - I could never leave London, you know?” He swallowed, looking up at Aziraphale. There in those blue eyes was turmoil, emotion, the fear of the unknown. 

“Oh?” The angel asked softly.

“I-“ Crowley blushed and took a breath carefully. He did now down the last of his scotch. Truly a waste of the good stuff, but he had to have the conversation.  _ They _ had to have the current conversation. “I can’t lose my best friend again,” he felt his face turn to crimson.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Aziraphale assured. Crowley could see the switch in the angel’s face. The wash of relief, happiness, and if Crowley wasn’t so afraid of fucking  _ this  _ all up he’d say that there was love in the angel’s eyes. “I promise.”

Crowley let all the air out of his lungs and sank into the chair. His own arms resting on the arms of the chair, hands resting flat on them. He felt exhausted now that the anxiety had left. “After the Ritz, I don’t know,” he ran a hand through his hair. “I was afraid that it was all just from the relief of not dying, and from Armageddon not happening.”

Aziraphale reached over and took the demon’s hand. Crowley felt the tingle begin again, and he wondered if Aziraphale knew what he was doing to him. “I prefer to think that it’s the Almighty finally giving us the lease we need.”

Crowley scoffed, but turned his hand to hold Aziraphale’s better and he squeezed it tightly. Their hands fit just right and Crowley thought he might tear up at the happy feelings he had welling up in his chest. “The Almighty has nothing to do with this. Attribute it to Agnes, the universe,  _ anything _ . But don’t pretend that God has an investment in us.”

Aziraphale smiled indulgently, “Fine then, the universe giving us the lease we need.”

“Better,” Crowley couldn’t help the smile blooming on his face.

Aziraphale smiled back, the wonderful, brilliant, blooming smile that only an angel could possess. Crowley wanted to fall into that smile, to be absorbed by it and held in that joy. If there had ever been doubt that Aziraphale loved him it was readily assuaged with that beautiful smile. “So,” the angel began, “What were you hoping for with this?”

“I don’t really have expectations, to be honest,” Crowley admitted, “I didn’t exactly think this far in advance.”

“Then let’s just take this one day at a time, don’t you think, dear?” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand tightly, and Crowley could feel the tremble in it. Crowley himself trembled, the term of affection giving him feelings that demons weren’t meant to feel. 

“I do, angel,” Crowley returned affectionately, his voice soft. “I do.” He squeezed Aziraphale back, meeting his eyes, and it felt like the rest of eternity was opening up for them. And for once eternity didn’t seem like such a dreaded thing.


End file.
